


Red Flowers

by bessmertny



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, SURIEL STRIKES AGAIN!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessmertny/pseuds/bessmertny
Summary: There’s mud all over her.It clings to her skin, her hair, her stupid Night Court dress.But she keeps going.She needs to find that creature, the Suriel, she needs to know how can she-She needs to know how she can be human again, mortal again.





	Red Flowers

There’s mud all over her.

It clings to her skin, her hair, her stupid Night Court dress.

 

But she keeps going.

 

She needs to find that creature, the Suriel, she needs to know how can she-

She needs to know how she can be human again, mortal again, because this eternity is like an endless sea and she doesn’t want to learn how to swim.

So she’s drowning, drowning, drowning, again and again and again.

Sometimes Nesta feels like she never really got out from that Cauldron, except for when he’s-

 

The bag full of dresses bounces on her leg and her hand tightens on the handle so hard her nails dig into her palm.

 

The forest seems to stretch endlessly on the horizon, the trees tower over her and it terrifies her, the fact that she has no idea of what might lurk between the shadows of this woodland scares her terribly, but she couldn’t delay this any longer, she needs an answer, she needs to breathe again without this crushing, immortal weight on her lungs.

 

There’s a sound like the crunching of leaves and the breath catches in Nesta’s throat; she freezes, and she can taste the bile on her tongue and wants to close her eyes, to run away as fast as she can but doesn’t, she can feel her Fae senses sharpening, straining to hear more that she has ever heard in her mortal body and she hates it, she hates it-

 

She realizes the sound comes from behind her and she turns slowly, her eyes closing for a second and when she opens them she sees stained teeth and bones and rags.

 

Everything in her is yelling to take a step back, or several, to hide from this hideous creature and don’t turn back but she straightens her shoulders, keeps her head held high.

 

The creature chuckles when it sees her, like it already know who she is, know what she wants and finds it laughable.

Nesta feels her temper rise, but she doesn’t react and ice coats her veins when she realizes that acting completely out of impulse, she came in the forest unharmed except for a knife strapped to her thigh and she knows that starting a fight with this creature would be completely useless, even if the fire in her heart roars the contrary.

 

“I am not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” the voice of the creature is a living nightmare, old and new and devastating to her ears and she doesn’t want to hear it ever again.

 

“I have some things for you.” she says, her voice as sure as she can make it, waving the bag in front of the creature “But first, you will have to answer my question, or I’ll throw each of this dresses in the river.”

 

The creature chuckles again but Nesta’s mind is a whirlwind, her thoughts racing at alarming speed and out of her control

_would fly again be simple for him if-_

_can wings heal-_

_how can I help him-_

“I want to be human again.” Nesta’s voice is hard, unyielding, lying.

“How?” she asks and it’s not even a question, it comes out as a command, a plea, a masquerade, a coverage for what she really wants.

 

The creature smiles and it’s one the most horrible things Nesta as ever seen “Are you sure that’s what you want, Nesta Archeron?” it takes a step toward her and she doesn’t move, stands her ground, shivers.

 

“Because I know you would do unspeakable things to see your mate fly again.”

 

The world stills, than shakes.

 

The Suriel angles it’s head, watching her, savoring her reaction.

But she doesn’t care, barely notices it’s presence as her whole world spins furiously

 

_Cassian, Cassian, Cassian_

_Mate, Mate, Mate_

“You didn’t know, did you? This seems to be a pattern with you Archeron.”

 

Nesta doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, doesn’t breath.

 

“There’s a flower with red petals in the forest. Grind it and spread the powder on his wings, if they are already healing it should speed the process. A whole night should do it.”

 

This is- That’s not-

 

_“I want to be human again!”_  she snarls, screams, a caged animal who’s been showed the path to freedom but it’s too scared to walk it.

“No”, the Suriel says. “You don’t.”

Nesta blinks, it’s a second, and the creature is gone.

She throws the bag on the ground with all the strength she has, screams in rage and love and fear.

 

Her whole body feels foreign, too little, too big, and everything, everything in her is screaming, pleading to go back to Velaris, to go to him, there’s only him, him, him.

 

Her eyes start to move, searching for those red flowers and her heart is beating frantically, grown twice its size, pressing on her ribcage.

 

There’s a little voice in the back of her head singing in triumph

 

_He’s yours, yours, yours._

 

and

 

_You knew._

Her body starts to move on its own and soon she ends up with the bag full of red flowers, the clothes on the ground near every bush of those damned flowers she encountered.

 

There’s no more red in the forest.

 

                                                                              ------

 

When she finally gets back to Valeris, she’s completely soaked thanks to an unforgiving storm that accompanied her all the way back to the city.

The bag is pressed against her chest and she doesn’t know what to do, she’s out of the House of Wind and she doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Where the hell were you? We’ve been searching everywhere for you!” it takes a moment for Nesta to recognize the voice, the person straddling her wrist, demanding an answer. Morrigan.

To lie or tell the truth?

Nesta turns to the other Fae and says “Give this flowers to the healer and tell her to grind them and to-to spread the powder on his wings. They should heal in one night.” she explains quickly, handing the bag over to Morrigan, but the _look_ she gives her, like what Nesta is saying doesn’t make sense “You think we can make him sit down and play nice for the healer? He’s been worried _sick_ for you, Nesta! A whole day has passed and we couldn’t find you, it took both Az and Rhys to prevent him from getting out and search for you. Where were you!?” Morrigan is furious, mostly worried, and Nesta swallows, the thruth tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“The Suriel. I went to find the Suriel.”

Morrigan is on the verge of openly screaming at her, but then closes her mouth, looks at Nesta and then at the bag full of flowers, understands what it means.

Nesta wants nothing more than hide from the look the other female gives her, of understanding and friendship, however tentative, and all the things Nesta wants but is terrified of.

“I’ll give this to the healer, but you have to go to him, and to Elain. I’ll winnow you.”

 

Winnowing. _He_ tried to explain to her how it worked the previous weeks, in which each day started and ended in the same way: Nesta swearing that she will ignore him, she won’t knock at his door to check up on him, she won’t ask him question after question just to be near him, she would control whatever it was that tied her to him, she will ignore how he is the spark that sets her blood on fire.

 

She failed and failed, and no amount of verbal sparring was enough to make her feel better, to make her forget the ache she felt, the yearning that made her skin feel incomplete if she didn’t touch him, but she never did, never allowed herself to touch because she remembers perfectly how hard it was for her to pull away in her house, a lifetime ago.

She remembers how easy it was to give herself to him, to feel his fire lick up her body, how she had to get away as soon as she could after she jolted back from him, after his tongue grazed the skin on her neck and she knew she wanted _more_. She sometimes wonders what could have happened if-

 

She feels her stomach go up in her throat as Morrigan winnows them and the first thing she hears is his voice, “I don’t give a shit what the healer says, let me go!” Cassian’s voice is booming and full of concern and Nesta can’t help but feel a pang of regret, regret for making him worry and the need, the utter need she feels of soothing him, to tell him it’s alright, she’s fine, she’s here.

For a second, everything is quiet and she can feel his stillness, the exact moment he realizes she’s back and in one piece.

 

Nesta sees him coming out of his room followed closely by both Rhysand and Azriel.

She looks at the bandages around his torso and all around his wings and can’t help but think that this would be the last time she sees him like this, that she will see him fly and fly and soar between the clouds and the joy she feels is like nothing she ever knew.

He walks to her until he is right in front of her and her brain tries to predict his reaction, what he will do but he just buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathes her in, and Nesta closes her eyes, her body singing at the proximity with his.

“Don’t ever do that again.” he whispers, his lips move on her neck and she trembles, but his hands are on her, cupping her jaw and between her hair, preventing her from falling apart, to scream at him _you are my mate._

Her hands shake and go on his hips, keeping him close and Cassian tenses, she can feel it. It’s the very first time she touches him like this and she knows her grip is strong enough to leave two matching bruises.

He doesn’t move away.

 

“Nesta!” she faintly hears Elain’s voice, her eyes never leaving Cassian as he moves his face away from her neck and looks at her, a question in that hazel gaze, _what happened?_

Elain is caressing her face and talking and Nesta can’t help but feel like she already lived this moment, but there’s a fundamental change, a reversal in the roles.

 

Cassian moves away, giving Elain space to check on her sister and Nesta knows he is the only one who hears the pained sound that comes out of her mouth as he moves away.

He stops in his tracks and she regrets the touch, the feel of his skin on hers because now she wants it again and again and again.

Is like that now that she finally allowed herself to feel, to open up for him, she can’t cease to want him near her, to feel the contact of skin on skin, to know he is real, _her mate_.

She can’t move her eyes from his and she sees the furrow in his brows, and she- she just want to go to him, to hold his hand in hers, to just touch him, be near him, _she-_

 

Nesta hears Morrigan talking to her male and the High Lord just as Elain says “You need to change your clothes and drink something warm, you’ll get a fever otherwise.”

Her sister moves her hands up and down Nesta’s arms to warm her up and as the healer is called and moves to talk to Cassian, Nesta nods to her sister, urging her to accompany in her room “I’m cold”, she says.

 

She’s not.

 

                                                                                 ------

 

Once she’s dressed again in new, dry clothes Nesta knows it is only a matter of time before someone knocks on her door, to demand some answers from her, especially now that Elain has gone back into her own room.

 

But she thinks, she thinks she should have known, retracing all the steps that brought them to this moment, she should have known; from the moment they first saw each other and _he saw her,_ saw all the things she kept hidden deep inside herself, with just a look, a look was enough for him to see and understand what other didn’t, never did, and it scared and infuriated her that this male, this _Fae,_ could have such a power over her.

And the days he spent in her house, just a couple of days, but enough for her to want him gone, to get that hazel gaze far away from her as possible.

 

And then, the back and forth of him for the Mortal Queens, and how, that day, gripping his fighting leathers with all her might, she understood what it felt to actually _want_ someone, to _desire_.

 

She remembers how her hand brushed the skin of her thigh under the covers in the middle of the night, and she imagined the grasp of calluses before her blood chilled and her mind screamed _what are you doing? Stop!_

 

Nesta walks up and down her room for the millionth time as she recalls that day, his promise, and how his words gave life to a spark, a flame, a forest fire right in the middle of her chest.

 

And then there was Hybern.

Her arms go around herself and she thinks she can hear her own screams, the phantom pain in her back that still makes her want to scratch her shoulder blades, the water clogging her throat, the worry for Elain-

 

_Elain, Elain, Elain_

And seeing Feyre start her act and Cassian, in a pool of his own blood, his fingers stretched toward her.

 

The first time she saw him again, she-

She had to run away.

His smell, like smoke and flame and earth was more than she could bear; it latched on her throat and in her veins and going straight to her heart. It had awoken a part of her she didn’t understand.

But even if she tried, she couldn’t keep herself away, not for long, not like her stubborn pride wanted her to.

 

And at night she wondered, as the days passed and the need to be near him grew stronger, if that was indeed _love_ or if it was another name for what she felt.

But she couldn’t forget the day he made her laugh, truly laugh, despite his pain, his insecurity on what would it be of him if something drastic happened to his wings, he made her laugh.

And she still can’t forget the look on his face, the utter surprise, the radiant joy that blessed his features.

 

A gentle, soft knock breaks her reverie and she isn’t at all surprised when she sees the High Lord walking in her room, not even waiting for her to speak.

“Mor told me what happened.”, he says and looks at her like he is trying to see if she’s alright, like _he cares_ “The reasons why you went to find the Suriel are yours and yours only, and I am not going to pry, but thank you, Nesta, for helping my brother.” there’s this look on his face, as if the possibility of Cassian flying again, being completely happy again has lifted a weight from his shoulders.

Nesta nods, not trusting her own voice in this moment and he heads for the door, but turns to her once more “The healer is starting now and she says it will burn. We will leave the door open, in case you want to visit him. Good Night, Nesta.” and with that, he closes the door behind him, leaving her alone in the middle of the room, completely at a loss for words.

 

 

                                                                                           ----

 

She’s sprawled on her bed, imagining invisible cracks on the ceiling, seeing the starts when she screws her eyes shut as hard as she can when she feels it.

Pain, tingling her spine and every bone in her back and she bolts form the bed toward the door, she can’t- she can’t leave him alone, it’s not right, it’s not-

She runs through the corridor until she’s at his door, and stops.

Nesta rests her forehead on the door, tries to calm her breath and the hammering of her heart.

She knocks, hard and sharp.

It’s Amren, the one to open her door and Nesta could swear there’s something like relief on her face when she sees her.

 

Cassian is laying on his stomach, his wings trembling and the knuckles of his hands are white from how hard he is grasping the sheets, his face buried in the pillow and the fabric absorb his hiss of pain.

 

Nesta moves, vaguely aware of the other’s watching her, moves until she is near him, on the edge of the bed. He slowly turns to her, the pained expression on his face makes her heart clench; she covers his hand with hers and he moves to entwine their fingers together, and he’s-he’s gentle, doesn’t crush her hand for the pain like she thought he would.

And it- this gentleness is more than Nesta deserves.

 

She kneels on the ground and his eyes widen, follow each one of her movements, scared she will decide to go away, but she raises her hand and gently tucks some strands of his inky black hair behind his ear.

Nesta can’t help herself, she caresses the side of his face and he leans in the touch, which makes her want to get closer and she does, gets closer enough that the edge of his bed collides with her ribs.

Her hand travel to his head, her fingers running through his long black hair like she thought of doing so many times.

“Nesta.” His voice is low and rough, every word laced with the pain he is trying desperately not to show.

“Nesta,” he repeats, and tries to get closer to her, but the pain stops his movement, so he brings their joined hands closer to him as he asks “will you stay?”

The question hits her like a blow, did he thought she wouldn’t? Did he seriously thought that she could-

“I’ll stay.”, she says and he-he _smiles_ and kisses the back of her hand, his eyes closed.

 

Nesta doesn’t notice how the others, one by one, exit the room, leaving the two of them alone.

She sees how the red powder slowly but surely fills the holes in the membrane of his wings and she keeps stroking his hair through it, and when the pain is too strong and he cries out she feels like something important in her is shattering and nearly climbs on the bed and in a moment, out of pure instinct, she kisses his temple and as she retreats he tugs her hand, still tangled in his.

“Please,” he whispers “get-get on the bed. The pavement is cold.” his voice breaks mid sentence and she-Nesta  moves, leaves his hand-and it’s devastating, the absence of his fingers entwined with hers- goes on the other edge of the bed, because there would be no point in arguing with him or in saying that she’s perfectly comfortable on the floor and it’s not-not the time for stubbornness.

He turns his head to watch as she lies down beside him and Nesta takes a glance at his wings and can’t help the smile that blooms on her face in seeing that they are now fully healed and she turns to him, but Cassian can barely keep his eyes open, tired as he is.

She moves toward him and kisses his forehead.

Cassian hums and Nesta, she is surprised to notice there are tears on her cheeks, and not from sadness or rage, but from happiness; he is asleep and can’t see them, can’t see that he is the reason why Nesta Archeron cried happy tears for the first time in her life.

 

She takes his hand, covers it with both of her hands and brings it to her chest as she adjust herself in front of him, their faces at mere inches of distance.

 

Nesta watches over him, not letting sleep claim her until she’s sure that there’s no more pain on his face, and only then she falls asleep.

 

She wakes up the moment she feels Cassian moving; he didn’t move his hand but he’s-his face is buried in the pillow and he’s shaking.

“Cassian,” she calls him, and she can’t keep the worry from her voice. His shoulders tense even more, but he doesn’t move.

“Cassian, what’s wrong?” she asks, and she feels his fear, the fear that his wings haven’t healed, the fear that he will be earthbound forever.

So Nesta reaches deep within herself and _tugs_ as hard as she can on that string, on-on the mating bond, the words still so foreign to her.

He gasps and slowly turns to her, his eyes wide.

“Was it you?” he asks, his voice rough and shocked.

“Yes. And,” he grazes her free hand on the edge of his wing, light enough to not startle him and to not cause him pain in case something had gone wrong “your wings are fully healed.”

His eyes widen even more and he slowly, slowly opens his wings but keeps looking at her, like he doesn’t know what matter to address first: the fact that his wings are finally healed or what that tug implied.

 

Cassian is shaking so badly the bed moves with the force of it.

 

“You’re my mate aren’t you.” he says, and it was probably meant to be a question but he knows, he understands.

There’s no coming back from this.

She nods slowly and he closes his eyes again and swallows and she feels the wave of crushing doubt that washes over him, that wings or no wings he will never be enough and Nesta would slap him if the situation was different.

So she leans in and kisses him.

Nesta presses her lips on his and the startled sound that he makes against her mouth makes it all worth it.

She frees one her hands to cup his jaw, but doesn’t really know what to do next, she never, she barely kissed a man before now, and, and it’s nothing, nothing compared to this.

He moves until they are chest to chest, their still joined hands between them.

Cassian stops for a second “My wings, my wings,” he chants, a sobs rocks his body, but not in pain “and _you_.” His forehead on hers, there are tears on both their faces and Nesta doesn’t know if they are his or hers.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will do anything Nesta, _anything_ to repay you for this, I-” she stops him, because,-because she doesn’t deserve this and he deserves the truth.

“I went to find the Suriel because I wanted to be human again.” and the look on his face when he hears her words, the complete sadness on his feature makes Nesta want to shut up, to lie to him.

But if she wants to do this, she needs to do it right.

“I was-I am scared of what I really wanted and I did a good job in convincing myself that being a mortal again would make me happy more than anything else. And the Suriel knew it.”

He is still, too still even if his breathing is still ragged and Nesta knows what he is about to ask, prepares herself for the question and even when it comes, she’s still not ready.

“And what is it that you wanted, Nesta?”

She says it right above his mouth, and locks her eyes with his.

“You. I wanted you.”

 

In that moment, the bond snaps into place, and she feels the string that connects them turning into unbreakable steel.

Cassian crushes his lips to hers and moves until he is astride her, breaking the kiss, his weight resting on his legs, his wings wide open behind him and he’s the most beautiful thing Nesta has ever seen.

 

Her mate.

 

His hands wander over her, touching her face, her neck, the curve of her breasts and she arches into the touch and seeing him there, with the upper part of his body completely bare and-she can’t take her eyes off of him and can’t resist the temptation of touching his wonderful tattoos, to follow the swirls and edges of it with her fingers.

Cassian’s finger grazes her collarbone and his eyes are fixed of the movement, his hair a wild mess.

He leans down until they’re face to face.

“All that you want. Whatever you want.” his voice is like a caress on her skin, and she wants it all, she wants all she can take from him, until she can’t take anymore, until he can’t give anymore.

 

The only problem is that she has no idea on _how_.

But she is more than willing to find out.

 

Nesta grips his head and kisses him, thoroughly, and he answers in kind, burying his fingers in her hair, and he grinds _down_ on her, right between her legs and she can _feel_ him, the hard length of him.

She arches her back, moaning in his mouth and he does it again.

Cassian untangles a hand from her hair and drifts down, to the buttons of her dress; she gasps, unable to contain the sound and he looks at her as he unhooks the first button, letting her know that in the moment she wants this end, it will.

 

But she’s too busy watching his fingers unhooking button after button after button to speak properly.

 

He moves his lips from her mouth to kiss her chest, grazing his nose in the space between her breasts and when his hand touches her naked breast, he’s the one who’s moaning.

 

Cassian goes up again to nibble her ear as his hand travels back and forth across her navel and she arches, trying to get his hand lower.

He grunts, his face buried once again in the space between her neck and shoulder.

“ _Nesta_.”  he says, and maybe he means it as a warning but the low rumble in his voice makes her move further, trying to get him closer.

His tongue brushes her neck while his hand keep teasing her and she whines, unable to help herself and just-and she grabs his wrist and puts his hand right where she wants it, and she feels her cheeks, her whole face going awfully red but she couldn’t care less.

“ _Shit_ ”, he says, his voice breathless.

Nesta notices how the hazel in his eyes is now just a thin circle devoured by black.

“There’s, there’s a tradition, to let the male know that the female accepts the bond, that she accepts him,” he stops his speech to kiss her and his hand starts to move in circles above the fabric of her underwear and she gasps “but I-I don’t give a fuck about traditions in this moment. Do you want this, Nesta? Do you want _me_?”

She looks at him, looks at his handsome face, at his perfect body that she can’t wait to discover, looks in his eyes and thinks how easy it would be for her to reject him now, how he would let her and how she would ruin her immortal life in the process.

“I’m in love with you.”, she says, and her own eyes widen as the words come out of her mouth, but she doesn’t regret them, she looks at him and the various expression that pass on his face: surprise, shock, love, joy.

The kiss he gives her is wild and utterly Cassian, all tongue and teeth and passion, leaving Nesta gasping for breath.

She moves from under him, moves until she’s finally free of her dress and his hand doesn’t move from her sex.

And the way he looks, like he’s a force of nature waiting to be unleashed makes her shiver, the heat pooling in her groin nearly unbearable.

“I love you, _shit_ , I love all of you.” and it’s something in the tone of his voice or something in the way his body is so close to her but not enough, and Nesta closes her thighs, moving her hips up to him and he growls.

Cassian spreads her legs open and settles between them, his eyes are locked with hers as he takes two of his fingers in his own mouth to wet them and she moans at the sight, and he smirks.

He uses his other hand to slowly take off her underwear and Nesta’s emotions rage inside her, fear and love and anticipation mixed together.

 

The moment his fingers touch her, Nesta nearly jolts off the bed.

“Easy, sweetheart.”, he whispers, but his fingers doesn’t stop moving, going up and down and then in circle on her and she loves it, the sensation is so good and she can’t stop moving, her hips following each and every one of his movements, and they kiss, between her moans.

When one of his fingers slips inside her she feels the delicious friction of it, and can’t help but wonder of how _he_ will feel, the sound he will make, how his-

“Gods, Mother, you are perfect, so tight and wet and hot-” he’s rambling, her hands buried in his hair to pull him closer, he praises her against her lips.

His finger goes in and out and is quickly followed by a second and Nesta feels a wave raising from her toes with a promise to soon wash all over her, but this isn’t how she wants this to go.

“Stop, stop.” , the moment the words go out of her mouth, Cassian freezes and withdraws his hand.

He is about to open his mouth when she says “You, you, I want you, Cassian _please_.”

Her hands go at his pants and he lets her, lets her untie the string and move them past his hips, helps her as he wriggles out of them.

She moves her hands on him, touching all that she can, raising up to her knees to kiss his chest, his tattoos, his scars and she can’t-she can’t help but look between his legs and to touch him, and she marvels on how hot and hard he is.

He moans when her hand touches him, while his own hand goes on her lower back to move her again on the bed.

“One word. One word from you and I will stop.” She nods and kisses him because she can’t form words other than his name.

Cassian takes a deep breath and moves, moves until their hips are flushed together and Nesta-she needs a moment, to adjust to the sensation-blissful, beyond beautiful-of him inside her and he seems to know because he doesn’t move and when she decides she is ready and bumps her hips with his she is welcomed with a wicked grin.

His first thrusts are tentative, slow and gentle and have her writhing under him so much the bed quickly becomes a mess, but after a while his pace quickens, his hips snapping against her again and again and he hits a spot inside that has Nesta nearly screaming and all she can hear is the sound of his moans, low and rough and needy, the slap of skin on skin.

She is vaguely aware of the words coming out of her mouth _please,Cassian,loveyou,harder,faster,moremoremore_

But when her orgasm starts to build inside her she can barely breathe, she arches, her hands going to Cassian’s hair to his shoulders and his arms and when he kisses her, his tongue laving her bottom lip she _breaks,_ but he keeps on going, whispering how perfect she is, how much he loves her, how being inside her is the most beautiful thing he has ever felt in five centuries of life.

Then his thrusts become erratic, his breath coming in short gasps and Nesta is still riding on her own pleasure and can’t wait to see the look of completion on his face, especially after what he’s been through in the last hours.

_“Oh gods, Nesta, Nesta.”_ She kisses him, and drinks in the sound he makes as he comes.

 

They stay still this for awhile, and Nesta would be more than happy to spend her eternity like this, but she is the first to move, knowing how tired Cassian must be after the ordeal with his wings, and after this.

Their arms move in the same moment, going around each other and Nesta loves the smile on Cassian’s face, even if the Illyrian is definitely trying to stay awake against all odds.

“Sleep.” she says, and her voice is gentle and strange at her own ears, but it’s definitely something she can get used to.

He makes a sound, and Nesta quietly laugh, which makes his eyes snap open for a moment and he smiles.

Nesta leans into his chest and his arms wrap around her tightly, but she moves one last time to whisper

 

“Take me flying when you wake up.”


End file.
